


Freefalling

by dracoqueen22



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Elements of Spark Merging, Elements of Tactile Interfacing, Field Play Interfacing, Fluff, M/M, MTMTE-verse, Wing Lives AU, courtship rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 23:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4198761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gone but not forgotten. Wing teaches Rung how his clanmembers used to court each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freefalling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vienn_peridot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vienn_peridot/gifts).



Rung was in the middle of humming one of his favorite songs when he got the comm. It was a pre-recorded message, one set from a queue, but it had been sent from his favorite flyer and it put a smile on Rung's lips.  
  
It was a strange, but then, so was Wing. And quite mischievous as well.  
  
The comm asked him to come outside, where the Lost Light was currently enjoying a brief respite as they resupplied on a planet favorable to intergalactic travelers. It was a warm day for the locals, breezy and bright and Rung cycled a ventilation as he stepped off the loading ramp. He drew the warm air, ripe with organic florals, into his vents.  
  
His helm swung left and right as he tried to locate Wing, but couldn't see the white flyer anywhere. It wasn't until he had the foresight to look up that he realized where Wing must have gone.  
  
It didn't matter how large the Lost Light was, eventually all flyers got an unremitting hankering to take to the air.  
  
Rung's smile broadened as he looked into the brilliantly purple sky, Wing a splash of white against it. Wing was dancing in mid-air, flitting and swooping through the clouds. The sun glinted across his polished plating, something no doubt he'd asked for assistance with to acquire the perfect sheen.  
  
Rung imagined that Wing sang with delight, his spark as bright as his paint. Flight was one thing that brought Wing true joy, that helped him escape from the lingering nightmares of an event that had very nearly killed him.  
  
He wondered how long Wing had been up there, dancing his joy to the clouds. He was quite the sight, like a gleaming bird. A part of Rung ached to join him. He would never know what it meant to fly. He could play a simulator, share a memory file, or ride along with a flyer. But he could never feel it for himself.  
  
Instead, he watched Wing with a smile and a sense of pride.  
  
Wing flew as though he were not made of metal, but something light and airy, thin spun mesh or the organic construct of paper or even silicate wafers. Broad loops and narrow loops. Twists and turns. Infinity swirls and steep climbs and deeper dives.  
  
He was absolutely beautiful.  
  
“He's flying for you.”  
  
Rung startled at the unexpected voice and turned to see Drift standing beside him, a small smile on his lips. The swordsmech's arms were folded over his chest, but his helm was tilted back, his optics following Wing in the sky. The Greatsword, once Wing's but now Drift's to keep according to Wing, hung across his back. The gem seemed to glint in the afternoon light.  
  
“Beg pardon?” Rung asked.  
  
Drift tilted his helm to look down at Rung. “It's a courtship flight,” he said. “For you.”  
  
Rung felt his faceplates heat. “For me?”  
  
The rumble of flight engines roared overhead, stealing Rung's attention. He looked up to see Wing swooping over them, performing an elaborate twist before transforming mid-air and gliding to the ground in front of them. His field was peppered with excitement and satisfaction, his grin echoing both.  
  
“You came!” Wing exclaimed as he rushed toward Rung, grabbing his hands and giving them a warm squeeze. “Thank you.”  
  
Rung blinked.  
  
Drift coughed into his palm. “Oh, look! There's Ratchet!” he said though Rung was absolutely certain no one was there and certainly not Ratchet as the medic rarely left the Ark for any recreational excursions. Not that his deception stopped Drift from transporting to alt-mode and speeding away, kicking up a spray of dirt and organic flora behind him.  
  
Rung shook his helm at the swordsmech's antics and returned his attention to Wing.  
  
“You invited me,” Rung replied, looking up into Wing's optics. “Your flying, it was quite beautiful.”  
  
A touch of heat colored Wing's faceplate. “Thank you,” he demurred. “The wind currents here are perfect for elaborate flight and the lower gravity makes it easier.”  
  
Rung performed a systems check and smiled at his partner. “Drift said that your flight was for me?”  
  
“It was!” Wing's hands squeezed his, drawing him closer, until their overlapping fields knitted together and Rung was bathed in the jet's happiness. “Of course it was for you.”  
  
“Thank you.” Rung stepped further into Wing's personal space, until their frames notched together and he could sense the pulse of Wing's spark. “I'm honored.”  
  
A squeak escaped him then, as Wing abruptly swept him up and into an embrace. Rung's arms flailed wildly until he found a grip over Wing's shoulders, which put their mouths in perfect proximity.  
  
Rung decided to take advantage of it. Judging by Wing's soft moan, he didn't seem to mind. Their lips came together, Wing's joy sifting into Rung's energy field. Wing's armor still felt cold to the touch, a strange sensation against Rung's own, but one he'd come to associate with his partner.  
  
“You really liked it?” Wing asked as he peppered Rung's face with numerous, exuberant kisses. Enough that Rung chuckled.  
  
“Yes, I did.” His hands fluttered over Wing's shoulders, managing to pinch a wing tip in revenge and make Wing squeak. “What did it mean?”  
  
“It was a gift. My appreciation for you in the sky.” Wing's hands settled on his aft, hitching him up. “A long time ago, we used to fly like that for courting.” A tang of grief darkened the edges of Wing's field before it faded away. “I so often fear we are losing our culture.”  
  
“It is never lost so long as it is not forgotten,” Rung said quietly and he directed Wing's face back toward his, pressing their lips together.  
  
The kiss was soft, a brief exploration of each other's mouths. Wing's glossa flicked playfully against his, lips gentle as they brushed over Rung's. He smiled and withdrew to speak.  
  
“I would be honored if you wished to court me in the same manner as your kin,” Rung murmured as he stroked Wing's cheek with the back of his hand. “Though I fear I am not a flyer.”  
  
Wing pressed their forehelms together, a heated ex-vent caressing Rung's abdominal plating. “You're amazing, you know that?”  
  
“I am unremarkable,” Rung corrected. A fact that history had shown him time and time again, but one he longer detested. Not so long as they started remembering his name.  
  
“I disagree.” Wing gave a little squeeze to his aft as a small giggle escaped him. His other arm slid firmly around Rung's waist. “And I'll show you exactly why if you hold on tight.”  
  
“Why would I--”  
  
The words were stolen from his vocalizer as they shot into the air, straight toward the Lost Light. Rung gasped, his hands failed, and he clung to Wing with every limb at his disposal. He was not accustomed to flying. Not at all.  
  
Wing laughed and took them higher, banking at the last moment to avoid a collision with their ship. He pushed them in a tight circle around the ship, dancing within reach of the fuel quills on the top. His thrusters lit with heat, roaring to take them above and beyond the Lost Light.  
  
It was invigorating. Despite his desperate clench to Wing's armor, Rung tilted his helm back to feel the wind whooshing by beneath him. Up here, the air was thinner and clearer and he could see for miles around, all the way to the far side of the city that had welcomed them. Swirling spires gleamed, sunlight reflecting off the gems embedded in the rocky surfaces of their buildings. The locals here considered the multicolored stones to be worthless where Rung knew they could buy planetary bodies in other galaxies.  
  
“Were you one of my clan, we would have flown like this, side to side, face to face,” Wing said, the wind taking his words and wisping them away almost before Rung could hear them. “There would have been inches between us, our optics locked, and it would have been a test to see how well we know each other. How much trust we have.”  
  
Rung shivered. “That sounds lovely.”  
  
“Doesn't it?” Wing nuzzled their helms together. “Do you trust me, Rung?”  
  
He knew where this was going. He said it anyway.  
  
“Always,” Rung breathed and the next vent was stolen from him as Wing pushed them higher, climbing sharply in a twisted spiral.  
  
They rose in the air, so high they were eventually above the puffy clouds and Rung began to shiver. His plating clamped tightly to his protoform to conserve energy. He was an Autobot, but never a soldier, and his armor reflected that. He was the very definition of a thin-plate, without so much as a vibroblade stuffed in his subspace.  
  
Wing's hands shifted, sliding up over his frame, starting at his aft, up his back, over his shoulders, down his arms, until he could lace their fingers together. His optics gleamed as he brought them forward, pressing a chaste kiss to Rung's knuckles.  
  
“Ready?”  
  
Rung did his very best not to look down. “Yes,” he said.  
  
The world dropped out from beneath him. His first instinct was to cry out in alarm, limbs flailing in all directions to grab for anything solid. Not that there was anything to be found. He felt the wind grasp and tug at him, setting him off into a spin and his spark throbbed with surprise.  
  
There was a glint of white and gold. Rung's helm turned and he caught sight of Wing falling alongside him, though he loped around Rung in lazy circles. This close, Rung actually could read his field, and Wing radiated happiness and contentment.  
  
Some of the anxiety eased and Rung took the moment to enjoy it for what it was. He couldn't hear anything over the rush of air over his audials, but his comms worked just fine.  
  
“All right?” Wing asked.  
  
Rung grinned. “Perfect.” He held out a hand and wriggled his fingers. “Dance with me.”  
  
Wing dove down, immediately out of sight, but when he rose again, he was in root-mode. He grabbed Rung's outstretched fingers with ease, thrusters roaring to keep them level.  
  
Rung didn't know how long they had before the ground became a concern. But he trusted Wing to show him the way.  
  
They fell beneath the clouds, back into the bright warmth of the sun. The Lost Light was a gleaming speck below them. The city was a larger sprawl in the distance. The lush plains spread below them, seemingly going on for miles in all directions.  
  
It was all so lovely Rung's spark swelled with happiness. Wing held his fingers lightly, but the flyer's own field pulsed with joy. It slithered warm and eager against Rung's own, pulsing to a musical beat. There was a heat in it Rung had not expected, and Wing's field tangled with his own, reading of a subtle hunger.  
  
Oh.  
  
Courtship in more ways than mere flight it seemed.  
  
And then Wing swooped him up and their freefall became another upward climb, faster and faster into the air, Rung pressed against the vibrating heat of his partner's frame. He leaned his helm on Wing's chestplate, heard the revving of a flyer's engine, felt the vibrations against his audials.  
  
The need in Wing's field was unmistakable, especially twined so intimately with Rung's as it was.  
  
“Is this part of the courtship?” Rung asked as they flew higher and higher, further than they had before. Not an inkling of fear grabbed at him this time.  
  
Wing grinned at him and brushed their olfactory sensors together. “Do you mind?”  
  
Rung grinned. He reached over Wing's shoulders and dragged his hands firmly down the planes of his folded wings, giving his field a hot and heavy pulse.  
  
Wing shuddered, optics flickering.  
  
“Guess not,” Wing purred and he brought them to a halt, hovering mid-air. His lips crashed over Rung's, kiss more vibrant and needful than before. His denta bit at Rung's lips, his glossa tangling with Rung's.  
  
Rung could feel Wing's spark pulse behind the weight of his chestplate. His field throbbed with want and Rung's own spark responded in kind.  
  
“More,” Rung breathed, his ventilations coming sharper and faster.  
  
His world dropped out beneath him again. Only this time Rung didn't flail from surprise. He threw out his limbs and didn't have to look around to find Wing. He could still feel the flyer, their fields intimately connected. The lust in Wing's field was twice as strong and it slid over Rung's frame like a physical caress.  
  
He shivered, and not at all from the cold wind snatching at his frame and sluicing between his seams to buffet at the sensitive components beneath.  
  
Wing darted beneath him in root mode, easily looping onto his back, arms wide as though trying to catch Rung. The physics of it were beyond Rung's understanding, perhaps Perceptor could explain them. But later. Right now, Rung didn't need the technical jargon.  
  
Not when Rung reached down, his fingers tangled with Wing's, and their frames came flush together once more.  
  
Not when Wing was kissing him again, lips sliding together in a mimic of the meshing of their fields.  
  
Not when the heat of Wing's plating and the heat of their fields chased all the chill from Rung's armor and replaced it with want.  
  
He no longer noticed the wind snatching at him. His optics dimmed, focusing instead on the rapid rise of arousal and the faster pulse of his spark. He'd never felt pleasure come over him like this before. Tactile, sure. Field manipulation, yes. Spark, most definitely. But somehow, this was a combination of all three and Rung luxuriated in it.  
  
He moaned into the kiss, felt Wing's arms tighten around him. Felt their frames dip, perpendicular to the ground, and then Wing set them spinning into a tight spiral. It was as much dizzying as it was intoxicating and Rung yearned for more.  
  
The overload stole over him, unexpected for all its intensity. It left him shaking in Wing's arms, frame spilling heat into the atmosphere. Wing's overload was just as subtle, but the pleasure was unmistakable, as neatly twined as their fields were.  
  
It left Rung's spark bright with joy and he smiled against Wing's mouth, a laugh slipping free.  
  
“That was incredible,” he said, optics unshuttering to read the unfettered delight in Wing's optics.  
  
“You are incredible,” Wing replied, nuzzling their olfactory sensors together. “And we're not done yet.”  
  
Their freefall reversed direction, becoming another steep climb, and Rung clung to Wing, the ground falling away from them and his spark as light as air.  
  
“As long as you want,” Rung said. He meant every word of it.  
  
He trusted that Wing would catch him every time.  
  


****


End file.
